


Comeuppance

by crazddreamer



Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Cheating, Domestic Violence, Mental Illness, No Sex, Super Angst, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 07:33:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16868764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazddreamer/pseuds/crazddreamer
Summary: Actions have consequences. Guilt cannot be ignored. And comeuppance is always delivered.





	Comeuppance

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: *Please Heed!* Violence- Woman to Woman. Domestic Violence-Woman to Man. Aggression-Man to Woman. Depression. Cheating. Implied Mental Illness
> 
> This is a first person POV. I wrote this at 1:30am while imbibing Sudafed to battle strep throat and feeling sorry for myself. I do not, in ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM, condone domestic abuse. I don’t care if it’s a man or woman. Or Cheating. Don’t condone that shit either. So, please forgive me for what you are about to read.

Standing behind the curtain, peering out to look at the sea of fans crowding the arena, I realized my hands shook. Blankly I stared at them, wondering why they chose now to indicate nerves when inside, I felt nothing. It wasn’t a calmness I felt, it was literally nothing.

Behind me, Gorilla was a busy hive of worker bees moving around Vince McMahon and Triple H, orders shouted, music being cued, lines rehearsed. I ignored all of it. It mattered little to me. I knew what I had to do, and I was ready.

The newly reunited Shield came through the curtain, their match against Dolph Ziggler, Drew McIntyre, and Braun Strowman over. Roman Reigns brushed past me, giving me a sympathetic smile. I glared at him. I needed no sympathy, let alone from him. Seth Rollins was next through the narrow space, but he didn’t look my way. He was listening to the third member of The Shield, Dean Ambrose, who was behind him talking at a fast rate of speed. Neither man glanced my way. I should have been relieved, but again, that was an emotion I hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since Dean had broken up with me.  

Almost on autopilot, I watched for my cue from Vince, ignoring the way The Shield took up most of the space in the small makeshift room. Typical of them, with their massive bodies and overinflated egos.

Vince’s finger ticked my way and my music hit. I only waited a nano second before sweeping the black curtain to the side and marching down the ramp, climbing into the ring and asking for a microphone.

“Ronda Rousey,” I drawled as soon as my music ended. Flipping my brown hair over my shoulder, I sent a scathing look towards the camera in the audience. My mood was foul, but my emotions were dead. My long running feud with the newest addition to the Raw Women’s roster was tired and played out, and I was sick of constantly playing second fiddle to the UFC cast out. My promo was short, as Ronda’s music interrupted my repetitive tirade. Watching her make her way towards the ring, the Raw Women’s Championship on her shoulder, my emotions seemed to spark. Like a flame lit in the darkness, there was a flicker of something inside of me, and before I could even check myself, I was on Ronda as soon as she stepped through the ropes.

Slamming her to the mat by her ridiculously braided hair, I crouched over her, my fist smashing into her face repeatedly.

Ronda tossed her hands up, trying to deflect my blows, but I moved around them. Hatred and sadness and anger flooded through my body until I could no longer feel right from wrong. I had mentally checked out, blackness flashing before my eyes as if I was part of a freeze frame cartoon.

Ronda’s screams, foreign to my ears, went disregarded. Hands pushed at me, orders were given, but they went unheeded. I felt every pent-up emotion that I had contained for two months. Everything, all at once. Frustration. Resentment. Heartbreak. Guilt. Regret. They overwhelmed me and cognizant thought abandoned me.

I came to when arms I was very familiar with wrapped around my middle, yanking me off the prone woman beneath me. Hair that wasn’t mine wrapped around my fingers, blood smeared my hands and clothes. Horror beat at me, but it was dull compared to the rage that still flowed through my body.

Voices started to filter in and my eyes cleared. I had no sense of time passing, but I caught glimpses of dismayed audience members, yells from referees, and the one voice I loved and hated at the same time chanting in my ear.

“I got you, Doll. I got you. Hang on, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

My body was stiff against Dean’s, clenched tight in a ball as he easily held my back to his chest while getting out of the ring and running up the ramp, back to Gorilla. I became aware of tears on my face and my heavy breathing, and I realized I was hyperventilating and sobbing. Trying to suck in air seemed impossible, and Dean’s reassuring voice only seemed to make it worse. I didn’t deserve it.

Pushing through the curtains, Dean didn’t put me down as I expected. He only shifted me so that he could carry me across his chest, his arms under my back and legs. The crew, including Vince, stared at me with anger and disgust. It was justified. I had no excuses, but I refused to hide my face, especially against Dean’s chest.

Carrying me quickly through the halls of the arena, Dean was finally quiet, and I steadfastly refused to look at him. I should have demanded that he put me down. Or to get away from me. But I didn’t. I would never get to feel his body against mine again, and I stubbornly wanted to relish in the moment, even knowing how much pain it would bring me later.

Finding the room he wanted, Dean opened it and closed it behind him, flicking the lock on the door. It was an unused sitting room with two small leather loveseats jammed into the space. There was nothing else in the room, the walls bare, no decorations to speak of. Finally setting me down on my feet, Dean held his hands out on either side of me as if waiting to see if I could stand on my own.

I kept my legs bent for just a second, wanting to be sure they weren’t shaking before I straightened them. Finding myself steadier than I expected, I caught sight of my bloodied hands. I should have been ashamed. I should have felt horrible for hurting Ronda with no cause. I had assaulted her on live television, and I was sure I was jobless.

I didn’t care.

As fast as my emotions had returned to me, they left. Once again, I was a blank robot, ready to step out of the room and take my punishment with no response or remorse. I was nothing. I felt nothing.

“Will you snap the Hell out of it!” Dean yelled, gaining my attention to his face. He looked livid. Mildly I wondered if that made him feel better. Made him feel justified. He should have felt that way. Once again saving the ex-girlfriend from herself. Always the underrated hero.

“What?” Even to my own ears, my voice was empty.

He was still sweaty from his match, his black shirt and pants shimmering in the fluorescent light. His hair was messy but pushed back from his forehead so that he could see, and his blue eyes were laser focused on my face. “Don’t ‘what’ me, you know exactly what you are doing! Disassociating or whatever the Hell you call it.”

I only lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I need to go talk to Vince.” Moving to step around him to the door, I was stopped by his hand on my shoulder. Immediately my body reacted, static electricity zipping through me and making my hair stand on end. Some things never changed, and my body was reminding me of that.

“You need to wait until the show is over. He’s got a mess to clean up now and Ronda is gonna need to go to the hospital.”

I only listening with half an ear. I was going to do what I wanted to do anyway. Arguing with him wouldn’t change that. Looking back down at my hands, I began pulling Ronda’s hair from my fingers. There was quite a bit, more than I would have expected. Clumps of dirty blonde hair stuck to the blood, and I methodically pulled each strand one by one. I had time.

“For fuck’s sake!” Dean exclaimed. “Stop it!”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t move Dean from in front of the door, so I would just wait him out. He wasn’t going to stay there forever. No doubt he couldn’t wait to be out of my presence anyway. Eventually he would get bored and leave, or Seth or Roman would come find him and he’d be led away like so many times before.

“…and I mean you nailed her right in her eye and if it wasn’t for your hand being there I think her eyeball would have popped out. You hit her so hard….”

Dean was apparently giving me a rundown of what I had done to Ronda, but I tuned him out. Truly, I didn’t care. I should have, but I didn’t. Her hair was falling into a pile at my feet, but there was still enough left to continue ignoring Dean.

“…you snarled at me. And Vince. Babe, I swear, that was the scariest sound I have ever heard in my life…”

My hand swung up and connected with his cheek, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. Once again, I was panting for air. “Do not call me ‘Babe.’” Anger had come back but was quickly melting away.

Dean’s head had snapped to the side upon impact, but just as quickly, his eyes were back on mine. His face began to turn red, and he ran his tongue against his lower lip, tasting for blood. I don’t know if he found any, but he shifted from side to side, and stretched his neck out. A sure sign he was ready for a fight. With me.

“Did that make you feel better? Huh?” Advancing on me, he crowded me up against the far wall of the room, next to one of the loveseats. “How long have you been waiting to hit me? Is that why you attacked Ronda tonight? You wanted it to be me?”

I didn’t answer. My eyesight focused on the door across the room, avoiding his gaze. I was fluctuating from being an empty vessel to an overflowing volcano and back again so quickly that I didn’t even bother to hold myself accountable.

“You better hit me a lot harder than that.”

My eyes flew up to his. He was almost vibrating with rage, but it mattered little to me. Once again, my eyes drifted.

Dean’s hand reached up and gripped my cheeks hard in his hand, stepping close to my body and pinning me against the wall. “You are going to look at me. If you are going to hit someone, it better be me. So, do it. Hit me.”

I didn’t want to hit him. I wanted him to go away. I wanted to be left alone. But the words wouldn’t come, so I just dangled there, feeling his fingers bruise my cheeks and jaw, forcing me to keep my eyes on his.

“Come on, you’ll feel better. You’ll get all your anger out. All your regret and self-hatred. That’s the problem isn’t it? That’s why you shut down. You can’t stand the guilt. Well, guess what, Honey. Tough shit. You fucked up, now you gotta pay the price.”

From somewhere deep down in my soul, a wail of rage erupted from me, and my hands flew up, raking my nails down his face. Welts rose immediately, and he stepped back, hands covering his face as he cussed loudly. As soon as his body left mine, I was on him, my small, balled up fists beating at his back as he hunched over, protecting his face.

Screams and cries echoed in the room, my knees raising to try to get to his stomach, which he easily blocked. Dean was twice my size and could easily deflect my every move. He blocked my kicks and knocked my hands to the side, avoiding getting smacked again narrowly.

“I fucked him!” I screamed. “I fucked him in arenas. In hotels. In gyms. I fucked him for months and you never knew!”

Dean’s grunts from my continual assault only spurred me on. The more he let me hit him, the more I cried, which only made me want to him hit harder.

“And when you found out, you didn’t even ask why!” As fast as I had begun hitting him, I stopped. My breathing was heavy, tears tracked down my face. Soft sobs escaped my throat as I watched him slowly stand upright, red marks already showing on his arms and face. “I cheated on you, and you didn’t even care.”

Dean scoffed. “You think I didn’t care? How fucking ridiculous is that? Of course I cared! What was I going to do about it, huh? Act like a fucking brat like you? Shut down? Mope? Whine? Throw a fit in the middle of the ring and beat the holy shit out of someone who doesn’t deserve it?” His voice was at a full bellow now, and I resisted the urge to flinch. I deserved all of this. All of his hatred. Truth be told, I wanted him to hit me back. I wanted him to feel a mediocre amount of satisfaction that he had caused me pain like I had caused him pain. But Dean wasn’t that kind of man. “It doesn’t matter why you cheated on me! All that matters is, you did it. And as far as I can tell, I did nothing to deserve that. So I’m not going to act like a heartbroken idiot when I did nothing wrong!”

He wasn’t wrong. He had done nothing wrong. He didn’t deserve to find me riding Drew McIntyre’s cock behind the arena like a whore in heat. The only reason I had stopped seeing Drew was because Dean had discovered the two of us and the guilt shamed me so bad, I emotionally vacated my own body.

Looking up into the eyes I had loved so much, I nodded. “Of course, you are right.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open, and I took the opportunity during his obvious shock to step around him and escape out of the room, only to find Seth and Roman standing guard on either side of the hallway.

I avoided their gazes. Seth had told me in no uncertain terms that I was a slut, and Roman’s pitying expression made me want to throw up. Without comment, I left the hallway, heading to find Vince for my comeuppance. It was well deserved. My self-destruction.


End file.
